Dante’s pov

The morning sun filtered through the big windows, illuminating golden lines across Lia’s bare shoulder while she rested against my chest. She remained asleep, her breath gentle, her fingers lying on my heart as if she had taken ownership of it overnight and was unwilling to release it. Perhaps she had. Perhaps I allowed her to. After a significant period, I felt no rush, no burden upon me, and no anxiety quietly suggesting that this moment wouldn’t endure. It certainly ...